THE BLACKTHORN CODEX
Episode 28 — The Masters' Oath
November 16, 2023 — 11:10 a.m.
Silence still hung over the circular room. Clarisse, on her knees, was breathing with difficulty.
"If every altar is like this... how many times can we survive?"
Leander gently lifted her to her feet.
"As many times as necessary. For behind every altar, there is a piece of truth. And only by gathering the whole truth will we be able to understand what the masters truly created."
And as they left the circular room, the frescoes seemed to follow them with their gaze, as if the masters, dead for centuries, were waiting for their next step.
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They left the circular room, their footsteps echoing on the cold stones. Behind them, the frescoes still seemed to follow them with their gaze, as if the old masters, painted in the shadows, were not mere memories, but living witnesses.
Clarisse stopped suddenly, placing her hand on an engraved wall.
"Leander... look. It's not a fresco. It's an inscription."
In the torchlight, the letters appeared: an ancient text, written in corrupted Latin.
Leander translated in a low voice:
"He who crosses the second altar has not merely opened a door... he has sworn an oath to the Masters. May he bear their gaze, may he serve their purpose, may he accept the burden of blood."
Clarisse stepped back, frozen.
"You mean... we are bound to them now?"
"Yes," Leander murmured. "And that bond is unbreakable."
A cold breath passed through the corridor, as if the stone were breathing. The Codex vibrated against Leander's chest, its pages turning by themselves. A map appeared, drawn in green ink. Three points of light lit up on it.
"The third altar," he said, staring at the map. "It's in France... in the catacombs of Paris."
Clarisse paled.
"The catacombs... where the dead never sleep."
As they reached the exit, the sky suddenly darkened. A flock of crows rose from the hills, blocking out the light. Clarisse looked up and saw that the birds weren't just forming a cloud: they were drawing a perfect circle, like a seal in the sky.
"They're marking us," she said. "We're being followed."
"No," Leander replied, clutching the Codex. "They're not following us... they're announcing us."
On the way back, their heavy footsteps led them to an old stone bridge. Beneath it, the stagnant water reflected their distorted silhouettes. Clarisse leaned forward... and saw her reflection smiling at her while she herself remained motionless.
Her inner voice echoed, clearer than ever:
"In Paris, I will be reborn. In Paris, you will no longer be able to contain me."
Clarisse stepped back, breathless.
"Léandre... she's growing. She's taking up more space inside me."
Léandre placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Then we must go faster. Each altar nourishes her, but each altar is also a chance to understand what she truly wants."
The sky finally cleared. The road to France opened before them, but the weight of the engraved inscription remained suspended in their minds. They were no longer mere travelers.
They were now bearers of the Masters' oath.
And as they walked away, a small crack opened on the altar behind them. Countless eyes lit up in the silence.